


Looking Forward

by hopemaeda



Category: Super Danganronpa 2
Genre: (Maybe..), ??? Uh, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt and comfort, M/M, Moving On, No character death in it just mentioned past events, Not rly nsfw tho. Like at all, Suicide mention, gun mention, hinata and izuru aren't related in this, how do i tag this lol, makeout sessions, reconnecting, shooting mention, souda is a Bro™
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-12 04:55:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11729922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopemaeda/pseuds/hopemaeda
Summary: About 4 months passed after Chiaki died when Hinata received a phone call.---Wrote this for the Komahina Secret Exchange on tumblr back in June.  I'm like, actually still kinda proud of it? The prompt I received was "Hinata's wife died, but Komaeda helps him move on."  Warning for a bit of ooc, haha,,,,





	Looking Forward

When he lost Chiaki, it felt like his whole world ended. Like it completely stopped.  This was no exaggeration -- it's just how it really, truly felt.

Souda was the first to apologize to him after it happened.

“Losin’ my wife…” he'd said.  “‘Can't imagine what that'd do to me, man...I’m so sorry.”

It wasn't a gradual thing, either.  It happened out of nowhere, all at once.  There was a shooting at the mall out in the city -- a man came in with a gun and just started...firing.  She'd probably hesitated, the way she always did. She'd always moved slowly -- too slowly. 

Hinata didn’t really know the whole story, but he didn't actually want to know any more.  He'd briefly heard about it on the news while it was happening, but he turned the TV off the second he realized that his wife and friend were there.  She was with Tsumiki. 

When the nurse who had tended to her emerged from the “Critical Condition” room and broke the news to them, they both cried -- hard.  Hinata wished he’d been there. He was convinced he could've done something. Like he'd be any more in control in the situation than anyone else.  He was glad Tsumiki was okay, at least -- though she was probably scarred for life. 

After it happened, he felt utterly alone, despite all his friends’ kind words and embraces.  Nothing could console him, it seemed. It felt like nothing would ever be okay again. He wouldn't go out for any reason except work and to go to the supermarket.  That was it. He was terrified to go anywhere else, really.

About 4 months passed after Chiaki died when Hinata received a phone call.  It happened midday, but he was still laying in bed, simply staring at the ceiling.  When his phone rang, he sighed heavily and swept it off the nightstand beside him.

_ Unknown caller. _  Hinata blinked at the screen, debating whether or not to answer for a moment.  He picked up.

“Who’s this?”

“Hinata-kun?  Is that you?”

“Huh?”  The voice sounded oddly familiar.  Hinata’s eyebrows furrowed. “Who is this?”

“Ah, my mistake.”  The person on the other line laughed softly.  “Um...It’s Nagito Komaeda. From college? Hope’s Peak?  I don't expect you to remember me, but…”

Oh.  Yes, he remembered Komaeda.  They were friends in college -- best friends, even.  He wondered whatever happened to that.

“Oh,”  Hinata said aloud.  “Hi! Ah, how'd you get my number, exactly?”  He was happy to receive a call from an old friend, yes, but he was honestly wondering about how Komaeda obtained his phone number.

“I heard your friend, Souda, talking about you at the café in town!  I work there. ‘Turns out I work fairly close by to where you guys live...Souda is a regular, but I never knew that you knew one another; I asked him for your number.  I'm sorry, I hope that's okay.”

“Yeah?  Oh, yeah, that's fine…”  Hinata sat up in the bed.  Of course; Souda wasn't exactly quiet about... _ anything _ that he did.  Hinata briefly wondered who his friend had been talking to about him.

“Okay,”  Komaeda replied slowly.  “That's good...well, anyway, he seemed to feel really bad for you,”  he went on. “I had no idea you were married.”

Hinata felt his breath catch in his throat.  “Mhm,” he forced out. “I was.”

“I'm so sorry for your loss,”  Komaeda said. “I, ah...a while ago -- around a year, now -- I lost my boyfriend.”

“Oh?”  Hinata swallowed, throat still tight, though that somehow made him feel a bit...better.  “I'm sorry to hear that…”

“That's alright!  This is more about you than me!  Ah, how long ago did she pass -- if you're okay with me asking?”

Hinata took a deep breath.  “A...about 4 months ago.”

“Wow,”  Komaeda breathed.  “I'm shocked you can even talk about it,”  he said.

“It's hard,”  Hinata replied, just barely keeping his voice from predictably cracking.  

“Of course.”  There was a pause of silence on the other line.  “I don't think it ever won't be hard.”

“Mhm.”

“Anyway, I just wanted to call and offer my condolences...it seemed appropriate, considering our history,”  Komaeda continued. “I apologize for calling out of the blue like this, I--”

“Is that the only reason you called?”  Hinata asked, running a hand over his face.  “I mean, not to reconnect or...anything?” Suddenly, going out for something other than work sounded okay.

“Oh um, I mean, not really, but...do you  _ want _ to meet again?”

“We were friends in college,”  Hinata reminded him. “I wonder what happened to that.”

“Life moves on, I suppose.  Sadly.” Another beat of silence.  “I’d disappoint you, anyway.”

“Don't be like that.”  Ah, yes. It was all coming back to him: how Komaeda could be.  He could deal with it...probably.

A pang of excitement suddenly sparked in his chest.  He sat up a little straighter. It surprised him, really; why was he excited?  ‘Just the thought of a “new” friend, he guessed, but...it was strange to him why he wasn't more than ready to hang up and never pick up a phone again, after the topic just forced upon him.  Had he really not had a decent interaction with someone in so long that it didn't matter what they talked about?

“We should...meet up sometime,”  Hinata suggested. “And talk. Just to, y'know, catch up again.”

“You sound pretty upbeat for someone who just talked about something so tragic,”  Komaeda said. “I'm surprised you'd get like this over someone like me!”

Hinata went quiet for a moment.  He'd definitely  _ need _ to get used to this, if they were going to “reconnect”.

“‘Guess so, huh?  Sorry.”

“Oh, no, I'm sorry!  That must've sounded bad, I’m--”

“No. you're okay,”  Hinata quickly replied.  “Not everyone’s really great with words, I guess...but…I get what you were saying, I think, I was just caught a little off guard, um -- I was thinking the same thing, really.  Myself.” He took another deep breath, glancing around his bedroom. His eyes landed on the clock on his nightstand.  _ 1:27 p.m. _  “Um, so, anyway...does lunch sound okay?”

  
  


\-------------------------------------

  
  


Lunch was arranged for that Sunday.  Komaeda called on Friday.

On Saturday, Hinata talked to Souda about the whole ordeal.  The man came over per his friend’s request, and they simply sat at Hinata's kitchen table together to talk.

“You'd think I'd be turned off by it -- the way he talked,”  Hinata told him. “But, I dunno, it was weird… because I was talking to an old friend, you know?  And it was like it didn't really matter once I stopped myself from crying ‘cause it was, like,  _ exciting  _ to talk to him again, I guess?  It felt familiar.”

Souda nodded at him from across the table, eyebrows furrowed together.  “Well, man, I'm glad he called!” The mechanic put his hands up. “‘Seems like you're happier than you've been in awhile just from a talk!  This guy could be good for ya.”

“I don't know if I'd say happy, just a bit uplifted, maybe.”

“It's pretty crazy to me how a person you haven't talked to in years could just call up ‘n do this to ya, regardless.”  Souda chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. Hinata shifted his gaze from his friend’s face and noticed his heels were now up propped up on the edge of the table, and he briefly wondered how he'd moved them there without Hinata noticing.

“Well, we  _ were _ friends in college…”  The brunette rubbed at the back of his neck, looking back up at the other. 

“Yeah but dude, you've been in this slump for, like, quite a few months now -- with good reason, ‘a course, but man...I was so worried about you!”

Hinata gave a tiny smile.  “Well, um, it doesn't just...go away, still.”  He cleared his throat. “But, um, I dunno, I guess it just felt good to know that I'm not really alone.  I mean, I know other people have lost their partners in the world, but--”

“Whaddya mean?”  Souda raised an eyebrow at him.  “What'd he tell you?”

“Oh, he, uh, lost someone, too.  Recently.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.  So I think that's part of it.”

“Probably.”  Souda nodded thoughtfully, eyes on the ceiling.  “Well, man, I hope this’ll work out for ya, then.  ‘Could be good to reconnect with an old friend. ‘Take your mind off things.”

“Mhm.  Hopefully.”

  
  


\-------------------------------------

  
  


He wasn't going to lie -- just trying to take his mind off of the fact that Chiaki was dead made him feel sad and especially  _ guilty _ .  Sad because it was a reminder that she was gone; guilty because he was trying to forget her, but he really didn't want to.

He wondered if she'd be angry with him for trying to forget.

The rest of Saturday went slowly.  Hinata really didn't have anything to do for the rest of the day -- he was still off from work, and there weren't really any errands to run.  He kept on top of anything that needed to be done around the house, so it left him...bored a lot of the time. He did not like the feeling.

When Sunday  _ did  _ come, Hinata was excited.  Purely, genuinely excited -- he felt like a child.   _ That  _ was a  _ good  _ feeling.  He welcomed it.

However, on his walk down to the local café at precisely 2 p.m (when and where they'd decided to meet), a sinking feeling formed in his gut.   _ He wouldn't stand me up, would he?   _ He thought grimly.   _ No...I mean, he doesn't really have any reason to...and this isn't a  _ date, _ anyway…   _ Hinata shrugged.  It was useless to worry; it only spoiled his good mood.

When he arrived at the café, Komaeda was sitting, waiting outside for him on a small bench.  Hinata was only a bit surprised to find that he looked...absolutely no different than he looked in college.  He had the same white, reddish-tipped, unkempt hair sticking up every which way, same stormy gray eyes, same tall, frail figure and pale skin.  He was wearing a white shirt with some sort of red pattern on it, and a dark green jacket over it. Hinata recognized the jacket.  _ Huh. _

“Hinata-kun!”  He cried upon seeing the other approach the front entrance.  Hinata waved a hand at him. Komaeda stood up from the bench.  “Hi! How are you? You look just how I remember you!” He laughed, grinning from ear to ear.

Hinata smiled widely back at him.  “You look the same, too; it's kind of amazing,”  he laughed, slightly, himself, and rubbed the back of his neck.  “I mean, I guess it hasn't been  _ that  _ long, so it makes sense...um, I'm good!  It's nice to get out of the house for something other than work.”  

“Yes, I bet.”  Komaeda nodded, looking him up and down.  “You still don't seem to know how to use a hairbrush,”  he teased.

“‘Could say the same for you.”  Hinata smirked. 

“Touché.”  The white-haired reached out and took one of Hinata’s hands.  “Should we go inside?”

Hinata looked down at their hands, blinking.  Right; he'd forgotten that Komaeda was kind of touchy.  How could he have forgotten that part?

“Hinata-kun?”

“Oh, yes, of course -- let's go inside.”  The brunette nodded quickly, and Komaeda glanced at him before leading the other into the café.  

The inside was quaint, quiet and Hinata briefly asked himself why he didn't visit this place more often, consider how close he lived to it.  More than that, he wondered why he had never run into Komaeda in town before. He figured he only worked nearby, but lived farther away. There were only a couple people inside the place, and no one except for the barista behind the front counter looked up at them when they entered, which Hinata was grateful for.  Komaeda released his hand after a moment.

“It's a nice place, huh?”  He said. “I like working here.  It's not really all that busy but even when it is, it always seems to stay quiet.”  He hummed. “It's a nice atmosphere to work in.”

“Yeah.”  Hinata replied with a nod.  “‘Seems like it,” he added as they took a seat at a tiny table at the far left of the establishment, right beside a window.  In that moment, he couldn't help but feel slightly antsy at the realization that he was  _ outside, _ somewhere that  _ wasn't his house  _ or his  _ job _ or the  _ supermarket _ ; he fiddled with his fingers.  He was a  _ target _ .  Komaeda was a target.  Everyone in the café was a target.  

“‘Something the matter, Hinata-kun?”  Komaeda was looking at him worriedly.  _ Is it showing that much?   _ The thought that he looked as worried as he suddenly felt made Hinata more uncomfortable.

“Oh, um, no, I'm okay!”  Hinata waved his hands in front of him, forcing a smile.  “Just, um, a little anxious.”

“If it's about this, there's really no need for it!  You shouldn't be anxious around someone like me, I--” 

“No, no, it's not that.  This is, like, uh...this is the first time I've been out of the house for something other than work or getting food since...Chiaki died, and I...it’s weird.”

“Oh.”  Komaeda nodded slowly, relaxing a bit.  “I'm sorry; we don't have to be here if you don't want to be here!  We can go to your house, instead, and just talk there…”

_ That’d be a good idea if my house wasn't a mess. _  Hinata deflated.  He'd been slacking on cleaning for a few days, which didn't normally happen; of course this had to be a time that it did.   _ I don't want that to be his impression of me... _

“Um...I don't think that’ll work…”  Hinata looked away from him, feeling shameful at this point.  “Sorry, ‘guess I'm kinda ruining this--”

“Oh, no, it's okay!”  Komaeda smiled at him and he briefly believed it  _ was  _ okay.  “Well, we could go to my house, then.  If you want.”

_ His house. _  Hinata paused to think about it.   _ ‘Seems a little awkward...but...he did offer to come to mine, and that would've been awkward for him...I guess it's fine. _  He fought back a sigh; he was angry with himself but didn’t want Komaeda to get the wrong idea. 

“Okay,”  he said with a small nod.  “That sounds okay.”

“Alright!”  The white-haired stood up from his chair.  “We’ll have to take my car,” he added, as if it was a terrible consequence.

“That's fine,”  Hinata replied, warily glancing around as he stood.  

“Okay.”  Komaeda shrugged, and went to the door, opening it for the two of them as they exited.  

“...‘Sorry,”  Hinata said after a moment of silence between them as they walked to Komaeda’s car (which was a small silver Honda, he noted).  “You must think I'm nuts.”

“No, not at all, Hinata-kun!”  The other laughed lightly, pulling his keys out of his jacket pocket.  “Really! May I ask what exactly happened to your wife, for you to be so anxious, though?”

Though he immediately felt tears in his eyes, Hinata felt...okay sharing with him.  There was still a pause of silence (that included them just standing there, Hinata looking around awkwardly and Komaeda holding the keys mid-air, not unlocking the car), though.  Hinata swallowed back the tears. “She, uh, she was at the mall that got shot up in town. Bell Mall?” He couldn't stop his voice from cracking, that time.

“ _ Oh. _ ”  Komaeda’s smile suddenly fell.  “That's...that's really terrible,” he said, and finally unlocked the car.  Hinata walked around to the passenger side and stepped inside.

Once they were both seated, and Komaeda was starting up the car, Hinata glanced at him.  

“Uh...I get it if you don't want to tell me, but...would you mind sharing what happened to...your boyfriend?”

Hinata could've sworn he saw the man’s grip on the steering wheel tighten.  

“He killed himself,”  he said after a moment, then smiled.  “That's not really important, though.”

Hinata stared at him for awhile, even as he pulled out of the parking lot.   _ He killed himself _ .   _ That's just...fabulous.   _ He couldn’t help but wonder why.

“That's horrible,”  the brunette finally said.  “I'm so sorry, Komaeda.”

“That's fine!”  Komaeda replied, humming.  “It's not your fault, anyway!  Don't sweat it.”

The brunette glanced away, feeling guilty for even asking.   _ He did ask me, though.  I mean, I guess it's fair… _

They were mostly quiet for the rest of the drive, Hinata successfully made it awkward.  When they arrived, he glanced out the window and at the house they'd parked in front of.

It was a fairly small, blue-gray...craftsmen, he believed.  It was lined with white -- there was a white deck in front, in fact.  The door was a pale orange, which was kind of an ice contrast, and two large paneled windows were on either side.  It seemed...homey. There were two potted plants on either side of the steps leading up to the deck. Red flowers.

“‘Coming?”  The other was looking at him, keys in one hand and other on the car door handle.  Hinata quickly nodded.

“Yes, yeah.  Sorry,” he added, and pushed the car door open.  The driveway, he noticed, was dirt. There were also little to no trees in sight.  He didn't bother asking where they were, though he was a little curious. 

“‘House’s nice,”  Hinata commented as he trailed behind the white-haired man, following him to the door.

“Thank you.”  Komaeda laughed lightly.  “That's nice of you to say.”

The other merely nodded, still glancing around the unfamiliar area.  Komaeda had the door open in moment, and he followed him inside.

They stepped onto a welcome mat the second they were through the door.  Komaeda kicked his shoes off and Hinata followed suit. 

It was very open, and very modern, he noted, pleasantly surprised.  The walls were all white (with some paintings on them offsetting it here and there), the floors were dark hardwood, and there were wooden beams on the white ceiling.  It made for a nice touch. They were standing in both the dining room and kitchen just upon entering; to his left was the dining room, to his right was the kitchen. Both were tiny, but not so small that they seemed cramped.  The dining room table was small, circular, dark wood, and there were three matching chairs around it, a centerpiece of flowers in the center, and a small, black lighting fixture directly above. There was also a gray area rug beneath the table, and a dark wood cabinet with glass panels in the far end of the room, presumably filled with China or...something of that sort.  The kitchen was brightly lit and almost all white; white cabinets, white counters, white island. However, the stove (which was wedged between the cabinets on the left), fridge (on the far right of the room, on the corner where it led into a hallway) and sink (which was beside the stove, on the counter to its right) seemed to be stainless steel, and the counter and island tops were a dark marble, Hinata believed.  There was also a pale blue backsplash over the stove and sink.

Directly ahead of them was a living area; a gray couch in the near-center with a tiny circular table with a lamp on it beside it, a dark coffee table in front of the couch with a couple candles on it, a TV on the farthest wall, some sort of cupboard to the right of the couch on the wall there.  That was all Hinata could see from the get-go. There was very little decoration, and even less evidence that anyone even lived there. It was still nice, somehow, though.  _ Weird. _

All in all, the home looked like it had just been moved into.  It was virtually barren; he could only guess Komaeda was a minimalist of something.  Or he was moving. He couldn't have just cleaned it for Hinata's visit, right? He didn't even know they'd be coming here.

“Are you planning on moving?”  Hinata asked, and turned to him, genuinely curious.

“Hm?”  Komaeda glanced at him, in the middle of hanging his keys on a tiny handle by the left the front door.  Hinata noticed, as well, that there was a calendar hanging on the right side of the door, marked with numbers too high to be on a calendar.  He'd ask about that later. “Oh, no. Why?”

“It's just so... _ clean _ in here.”

“Oh, I just like cleaning!  It keeps me busy...I also like to keep it nice in case anyone should happen to drop by.  And -- for my own sanity. I lose things often, so I like to be assured that everything has a place and is in that place at all times.”

Hinata was impressed.  “You do a really nice job of it, it's beautiful in here.  Just kinda empty.”

“Thank you.  And, yes, I don't have all that much but again, what I do have is all in particular spots.”  Komaeda chuckled in that way of his and headed into the kitchen. “Anyway, do you want anything to drink?”  He opened the fridge. “I've got...iced tea. And water, of course. And there's probably some coffee in the cupboards.” 

The brunette followed him, leaning on the island slightly.  He was still looking around, taking it in. “Oh, uh -- just water is okay,”  he insisted, smiling at the other. “Thank you.” 

“No problem!”  Komaeda hummed and walked over to a cabinet, reaching up and taking out a glass and then proceeding to fill it up with tap water. 

Hinata tapped his fingers against the marble surface of the island.  “Can I ask a dumb question?” He said after a beat of silence.

“Ask away!”  Komaeda replied, turning off the tap and moving to hand him the glass.

The man muttered a  _ “thank you” _ as he took it.  “Um, what's with the numbers on the calendar?  Like, not the date ones but the big ones that were, like, written on there.  I think I saw one that was like, in the 400s. Do they mean something?”

“Yes.”  Komaeda nodded.  “Something I’d rather not share; it’s a bit embarrassing.”

“Oh, sure.”  Hinata broke his gaze.  “Sorry.”

“Not a problem!”  The white-haired man insisted.  “Don't worry. Anyway,” he clasped his hands together.  “It's my turn to ask a question. What do you do for a living?” 

“Oh, I work in an office.  Nothing special. I like, answer phone calls and stuff.”  He immediately felt embarrassed, sharing his boring old desk job.

“Hmm.  Interesting.”  Komaeda nodded, as if it was  _ truly  _ interesting.  “What type of company do you work for?”

“A window installation company.”  Hinata wanted to curl up and die. This was very, very embarrassing.  Komaeda wouldn't want to waste time talking to some dude he knew from college who asked people what type of windows they’d prefer over the phone for a living. 

“Ah!  That's cool.  It sounds like a very leisurely job.  ‘Seems nice.”

“It's really boring, actually.”

“So you'd prefer something with some life to it.”  Nodding seemed to be Komaeda’s thing. Aside from laughing.

“‘Guess so,”  Hinata replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just...it’s boring sometimes.”

“I can imagine… But it gets you by, I’m sure!”

“Yeah.” Hinata sighed.  “Do you like your job? At the cafe, I mean.”

“Oh, I do,” Komaeda responded with a smile.  

Hinata raised an eyebrow.  Cafe-worker definitely seemed better than window-seller, but he couldn’t imagine the job was particularly enthralling, either.  “Do you ever wish you could do something else?” he asked.

Komaeda didn’t hesitate with his response.  “I mean, a piece of trash like me doesn't need an amazing job that could be left for someone much more worthy.  Not that I could get one, anyway. Besides, I've got enough money to get by; my parents left me enough to retire, really, but I've got to do  _ something  _ with my time.  So, no, I think I’m fine with the job that I have.”  

He was rich?  Komaeda was rich.  He didn't really show it.  That was weird, but kind of cool.  Cool that he didn't take advantage of it.  Hinata felt privileged. The brunette chose to ignore the “trash” comment, as he suddenly recalled that was something Komaeda used to say very often in college, and it  _ probably _ wasn't going to do anything to say something.

“Ah.  Yeah, sure.  I get that, sort of… I guess,” he replied.

“Let’s change topics, shall we?”  Komaeda waved a hand, smiling. “So, you have any kids?”

  
  


\-------------------------------------

  
  


Talking with Komaeda felt therapeutic to Hinata in a way, despite how many times he said things that should be considered off-putting.  The brunette really, honestly stopped minding after a while, and realized just how much he enjoyed the other’s mere presence. It was relaxing, and quite comforting to feel that way again.  Cleansing. They talked until it was dark out. Hinata got home at at least 7 p.m. It seemed like, the longer they spoke, the easier the words came. Instead of running out of things to talk about, they found more and more.  
Komaeda drove him home that day, and this time the silence was more comfortable.  Hinata didn't feel awkward in the slightest. When he was dropped off at home, the white-haired smiled widely at him and waved as he drove away.  It left him in a good mood. 

When he stepped into his house, however, that feeling vanished as if it had blown away with a gust of wind.  A feeling of guilt and sadness set in, like it had on Saturday after Souda left. Maybe Hinata just...needed to be around people all the time.  That would be tough, unless he remarried...which wasn't happening anytime soon, by any circumstance. Hinata refused. He just wanted Chiaki back.  He really, really wanted her back. He wished all of this was a joke -- that whatever or whoever had taken her would come out of nowhere with an arm around his wife and place her safely in  _ Hinata’s _ arms instead.  

When he laid down in bed that night, he couldn't help but notice how empty the bed felt with the vacant space beside him.

  
  


\-------------------------------------

  
  


Komaeda called back a few days after Hinata had been over his house -- two days, to be exact.

“I figured you wouldn't mind me calling, but I guess that was kind of a bold assumption,”  Komaeda had told him sheepishly. “But we had such a nice time when you came over, I figured--” 

“I had a great time.”  Hinata cut the man off before he could feel any worse about calling, which is where he knew it was going.  “You're not bothering me by calling, okay? I’m glad you called. I would've, but--I don't actually have your number, I totally forgot to ask you for it.”

“Oh!”  Komaeda laughed into the phone.  He proceeded to tell the other his number, and Hinata wrote it down on the notepad he kept on his nightstand.  It seemed like it would be a regular occurrence for Komaeda to call when Hinata was in bed. 

“Okay, thanks.”  Hinata nodded to himself.  “It was stupid of me not to ask for it; I'm glad you called.” 

“Yes, me too!  I'd hate to lose contact again.”

They talked for what had to be an hour after that.  They talked about nothing particular, just random things: a pretty bird Komaeda had seen, something Hinata had watched on TV; it was peaceful.  Reassuring. He decided he really enjoyed talking to Komaeda because there was no stress involved. Even if Chiaki did come up, the unsettled feeling Hinata got would vanish just as soon as it came.

  
  


\----------

\-------------------------------------

\----------

  
  


Two months passed.

Hinata and Komaeda made phone calls a regular thing.  Then, meeting regularly at one another's houses became a thing.  The two months went by quickly, full of those two things and almost nothing else (other than working and buying food) for Hinata.  He enjoyed it. It made him feel like he wasn’t so disconnected anymore; like he was putting himself out there, and getting better somehow.  Not only that, but it was refreshing to just sit and talk about all the fun they had in college, when they were younger. Anything brought up was a fond memory.  Hinata never seemed to stop smiling during these interactions. They grew closer with every conversation.

On the days when Komaeda had work, Hinata sometimes visited him at the café.  On the days  _ Hinata  _ worked, Komaeda sometimes visited him at the office.  Those visits always brightening the brunette's day -- even when he was in a pissy mood.

“This friendship seems to be...somethin’ else alright,”  Souda had told his friend the next time they saw each other, a bit awkwardly.  That’s right -- friendship; Hinata refused to look at it as anything else. “Pretty remarkable.  I’m glad he could make you this happy.”

Was Hinata completely happy?  He figured as much, but he wasn’t  _ really _ sure.  There was still that nagging feeling in his stomach every time he went to bed alone.  

Komaeda came over to Hinata’s house one day as they approached the third month of constantly seeing each other (as Just Friends, of course).  He arrived unannounced, but Hinata didn’t mind, because the second he opened the door the white-haired got this huge grin on his face and it, truthfully, melted his heart.  Wait, did it? He quickly composed himself.

“Hi, Hinata-kun!”

“Komaeda!”  He said, and smiled back at his friend.  “Hi! Why’re you here?” The man asked. “Not that I’m not...glad to see you.”

“Oh, I just thought I’d drop by.  I was in the neighborhood,” Komaeda explained.  Hinata waved him inside, and the other stepped in quickly, as if walking in front of a playing movie screen.  “I wanted to talk to you…”

Hinata was instantly a little anxious.  It was just a natural reaction. “Oh yeah?”  He shut the door. “About what?”

“Oh, just…”  Komaeda hesitated for a moment.  “Us.”

That only made the brunette feel worse.  “Us”? What was that supposed to mean? Did Komaeda not want to hang out anymore?  God, he probably noticed how Hinata looked at him sometimes. That wouldn’t make sense, though -- the smiles he made at the other were always so full of joy.  That just wouldn’t make any sense!

“It’s nothing bad...I don’t think.”  Komaeda’s words snapped him out of his thoughts.  “I still really like you.” It was like he read Hinata’s mind.  The man blinked at his friend.

“I wasn’t thinking that,”  he lied.

“Okay.”  Komaeda smiled sweetly.  “Do you want to sit down?”

Was this a conversation they’d need to sit down for?  “Sure.” Hinata led him to the living room and plopped down on the couch.  Komaeda slowly sat beside him. It was quiet in the room for a few moments, which didn’t normally happen.

“Our friendship is interesting, don’t you think?”  The other man jumped  _ straight  _ into it.  He didn’t waste any time.  Hinata was kind of impressed at his ability to skip all the small talk.  

“Sure,”  he replied.  “Why?”

“It’s just amazing to me!  How we just...became friends again after not even seeing one another for so long.”  The white-haired laughed lightly. “I feel very connected with you.”

Hinata suddenly felt awkward.   _ Why?  _ he thought bitterly.  Though, he supposed, he could ask himself the same question about how he felt towards Komaeda.  “Yeah, me too. It’s nice to have a friend like you again,” he said. “Not that I don’t appreciate my other friends.  It’s just different, I guess.”

“Mhm.”  Komaeda nodded slowly, staring at him.  Hinata glanced around the room, trying to avoid his gaze.  “I’ll understand if you don’t share my feelings,” he went on.  “But I just feel like I need to tell you that I don’t believe I’ve felt the way I do when I’m with you since Izuru was alive.  But -- I really don’t deserve you, do I?” Ah. Izuru was his boyfriend’s name. The gears in Hinata’s head turned as Komaeda broke his stare and leaned back on the couch.  “No...you’re much too good for me. He was, too. That was foolish of me to say, huh? Just forget i--”

“Are you saying that you, like, want to date me?”  It was Hinata’s turn to stare.

“Nevermi--”

“Komaeda.”  They were staring at each other, at that point.  Hinata chose to notice, at that moment, how close they were sitting to each other.  “Would you just answer something clearly? It’s like you speak in riddles sometimes...”

The man’s eyebrows furrowed.  “I just spoke on an instinct,”  he insisted. “I didn’t really mean it…”

Hinata could just tell he was lying.  He was quite poor at it, really. He remembered, in college, he’d believed many of Komaeda’s lies without a second thought.  He was so  _ dense _ back then, it was kind of pathetic.  The brunette sighed aloud, closing his eyes for only a moment.  When he opened them again, Komaeda had his hands folded in his lap and was gazing to the right.  He clearly did not know where to go with this. Hinata took a minute to organize his own thoughts.  He thought about how he felt lighter every time Komaeda smiled; how his heart clenched when the other laughed; how he felt incredibly amused when noticing the things he unconsciously did (like talk with his hands, or furrow his eyebrows when invested in a conversation, or take Hinata by the hand to lead him somewhere, and then apologize once he noticed they were holding hands, or--lots of other things); how he just felt...elated, anytime he was with him.

They were just friends, though, right?

...Apparently not.

  
  


\-------------------------------------

  
  


Hinata said it “just happened.”

Well, it didn’t  _ just _ happen; it happened and it was way too important to slap a "just" on it.  It  _ really _ began the second Komaeda had basically said “I haven’t felt like this since Izuru was alive.”  It  _ escalated _ , however, when Komaeda interrupted his internal struggle for the second time that night by saying “I should go”, and Hinata forgot any other nagging thought in his mind for that moment because the want to say “No, stay” trumped all of them.  Maybe that was it.

All he  _ really _ knew was that the white-haired was almost literally on top of him, seemingly trying to kiss him to  _ death. _  Honestly, Hinata was loving it.

It started out slow, gentle, fairly tame:  Hinata pulled him back down to the couch and pressed their lips together.  They separated pretty quickly. Then they kissed again, when they both realized they liked it, and then they just kept coming back for more.  Each one turned longer than the last, and then it turned feverish and Komaeda’s tongue was in his mouth and Hinata was pushing him down against the couch and then--

And then kissing like that made Chiaki pop into Hinata’s mind and he just kept on kissing him, because he reveled in the familiar feeling and he hadn't had it in so  _ long  _ and if he shut his eyes tight enough it was like he was  _ really kissing her. _

It didn't last long, though.  Hinata quickly remembered who he was _actually_ kissing and everything instantly felt terribly wrong and he was ashamed with himself.  He pulled away abruptly.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” he gasped.  “I'm sorry, I can't, this is wrong.”

“Woah, hey,”  Komaeda breathed out, gripping Hinata’s arms.  Hinata pulled away, allowing the other to sit up.  He couldn't look at him. “What's the matter? Is it me?  I did something wrong, I'm so--”

“No, no, not you.”  The other took another breath.  “I’m sorry, I just--it felt like, it felt like I was kissing her, and I just, I don't want to kiss you and think about her that's just not right an--”

The white-haired cut him off.  “It's okay.” He laughed, as if it really was.  Hinata shook his head. “No, really, it is. I--I can't say I wasn't thinking about Izuru, myself, because I mean...it felt like I was kissing him.”  

Hinata looked at him.  He was rubbing the back of his neck slightly, only half-sitting up.  “Oh. Well, that's fine, because--”

“But you said it felt like you were kissing Chiaki, too, right?”

“Yes, but--”

“So it's fine,” Komaeda said softly, sitting up fully and taking one of Hinata’s hands.  Hinata stared at him. “Because we loved them, right? So that means that...the feeling, here, is the same, or at least similar -- right?”

The brunette was quiet for a while.  He  _ was  _ right, he supposed.   _ Right? _ _ Yes _ .  That didn't make Hinata feel better, actually.  It only made his head hurt.

“I just don't want...I don't want to think about her if I'm kissing someone else,”  he practically whimpered. It was pathetic. His throat felt tight. “It just doesn't feel right, but I don't want to forget her, I still love her--” 

“You don't have to stop loving her,”  Komaeda said gently. “I don't think I'll ever stop loving Izuru.  Just because they're gone -- that doesn't mean they have to totally disappear.”

Hinata’s throat still felt tight; the feeling had, in fact, intensified.  He looked away again. Then, he felt Komaeda’s hands on his cheeks, wiping tears away.  When had he started crying?

“Sorry,”  Komaeda mumbled when Hinata glanced at him again, and quickly retracted his hands.  “But, as I was saying, you don't have to forget. And neither do I. I'm sure there are people in relationships that have lost lovers before and they still haven't totally moved on, but...we can still go forward.”  He paused, clearly thinking his words over. “I'm not forcing anything on you, though, I totally get it if that's not what you're looking for, or if you're not ready for that, I could be useful for anything, th--”

“No, no, I’m not thinking any of that, please stop.”  Hinata shook his head once again. “I'm just trying to process...my thoughts right now.”  His eyebrows furrowed. “Listen, I...really like you, okay, I really do.” Komaeda seemed to deflate slightly at his words, like he already knew how the story would end.  “It's just hard for me to accept them because...I feel like I'm betraying her, I feel like--” he paused, sucking in a breath. “I feel like it's too soon for me to be...in another relationship, because it hasn't been long enough since she died, and I just...I don't know, Komaeda, I don't know.”

“Well, it’s only been six months since she passed, right?  So...it's understandable. I get it.” He nodded. 

“I just--the thing is I think that I want to be with you, I just didn't expect I feel this way again so soon after she passed; it feels so, so wrong--”

“You aren't betraying her by feeling, Hinata,” Komaeda insisted.  “I promise you. It's only natural. You don't just stop feeling. There's billions of people on Earth, you know.”

“I know,”  Hinata practically grumbled.  “I just--”

“She's not angry with you.  He's not angry with me. Though, again…”  He stood up from the couch, running a hand through his hair.  “I'm not trying to pressure you or..anything like that. I just want you to know that.”

They just looked at each other for awhile.  After maybe 30 seconds, Komaeda was clearly uncomfortable.  

“Okay, well, I should go,”  he said. “Sorry. About everything.  I'm just--it's to be expected of me, I'm sorry, I can't imagine I let you down because I was too low to begin with for you to have any high expectation of me--”  he was already beginning to walk away. “--but I guess I  _ did  _ let you down, I'm sorry--”

Komaeda kept talking, but Hinata didn't really hear past that part.  He'd pin anything on himself, wouldn't he? The brunette stood up, reached out and grabbed the other by the arm.  Komaeda was instantly quiet.

“I said I should leave, Hinata.”

“I don't want you to leave.  And you don't want to leave, either.  And also, seriously stop blaming yourself because I literally  _ just _ told you what this was really about.  None of it's your fault, idiot.”

Komaeda laughed lightly.  “...Okay,” he said after a moment.  “If you say so, I suppose…”

“I just need to think about this, okay?”  Hinata released his arm. “Give me a day?”

“Of course.  However long you need.  Don't feel obligated,” Komaeda told him.  “Please.”

“I'll call you tomorrow,”  Hinata promised. He'd have everything figured out by then.  Hopefully.

  
  


\-------------------------------------

  
  


Once Komaeda left, Hinata threw his jacket on and left, as well.  He hopped into his car and drove straight to the graveyard. The graveyard where she was buried.  He'd only visited it once before.

When he arrived, unease immediately washed over him.  He already didn't like it. There were countless tombstones of varying shapes, sizes, lengths; all squished together, struggling to fit in the space inside the gates.  Contained. Like there wasn't enough room to fit all the bodies.

Surprisingly, Hinata found Chiaki’s grave fairly quick.  She had a small tombstone, rounded at the top -- like many of the others.  It was very new, not a sign of wear on it or a chip to be seen. Hinata sat down in the grass in front of the stone.  He read her name over and over in his mind, traced his fingers over the indentations, and then pulled back.

“You're too good-hearted to hate me for this.  Right?” That was the first thing he said. “I'm so sorry.”  The tears were already flowing. He let them. “I didn't want this to happen, but I guess I can't help it now.  You always said that you--can't control what you like, and you were right, I guess.” He took a breath. “I'm really sorry.  It's my fault, too, I can't just blame him like that; I chose to keep seeing him. I could have stopped.” The brunette leaned his elbows in the grass, face in his hands.  “I really like him. But I love you, too. Would you be angry if I decided to be with him?” He paused for a moment, as if expecting a response. Nothing came, as expected. 

“...I'm so sorry, Chiaki.  I'll never stop loving you, never.  Never, so long as I live. And I'll never forget you, I absolutely won't.”  He took a shaky breath. “I promise. Never.” His hands were wet.

He talked to her for an hour more, at the least, about everything.  Life, death, love again, just everyday life. He felt freed. Hinata knew not all of his problems would disappear with one talk to a gravestone, but at least it was a start -- a start to a new future for him.

  
  


\-------------------------------------

  
  


He called Komaeda the next day.  He just picked up his phone (when he was sitting in bed, of course) and dialed like it was nothing.

It was, somehow, liberating, despite how he had felt the day before.  He felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest yet at the same time there was still guilt in the back of his mind.  He guessed that's just how it would have to be for awhile. He could live with that. Hinata knew his choice was the right one -- for both of them.  All of them.

The phone rang four times before the other man picked up.  Hinata held his breath through all four rings.

“Hello?”  A groggy voice greeted him.  Hinata glanced at the clock on his nightstand.  _ 11:05 a.m.   _

“Hi.  It's me.”  The brunette cleared his throat.  “Did I wake you?”

“No.  I’m just tired.  I didn't sleep very well last night.”  He yawned into the receiver. Hinata suddenly felt guiltier.  “Sorry. How are you today, Hinata-kun?”

“Good,”  Hinata said slowly.  “I'm good. Um, I was calling to tell you something.”

“Oh, yeah?”  Komaeda barely sounded interested; this was very different from his usual attitude.  He must have been extremely tired. “What is it?”

“I went to Chiaki’s grave last night.”  Though he would usually cry upon just saying her name, he didn't even feel an urge to do so.  

Komaeda was quiet for a moment.  “Really?” He finally replied. He seemed a bit more awake.  “That's, well...interesting… What happened?”

“I talked to her.  A lot. And I thought a lot about a bunch of stuff.” 

“Mhm.”

“I talked to her about you.”

_ No response.   _ Hinata took a breath.

“I realized that she wouldn't be angry with me.  She was too amazing to ever be angry about something like this.”  Hinata sighed through his nose, softly. “I'll never forget her. And I'll never be over her, I don't think, but I really want to be with you,” he said, and continued without waiting for a response.  “I think it's okay. I want to--I don't want to forget, and I don't want to leave her behind, but I want to--I want to at least move on from--from  _ this-- _ ”

“Really?”  Komaeda cut him off.  “You're really okay with this?  Another relationship? After her?”

“Yes,”  Hinata said, and he was sure.  “Are  _ you  _ okay with this?”

“Of-of course I am,”  the man replied. “...You know, I think they would  _ want  _ us to look forward.  ‘Be happy again.”

Hinata nodded, even though he knew Komaeda couldn’t see him.  He was right. That’s just what Chiaki would want. “Yeah. I think so, too.”

There was a pause of silence between them, but it was comfortable.

“Hinata-kun?”

“You can drop the honorific, seriously.”

Komaeda laughed.  “Okay, Hinata then.”

“Hm?”

“Do you still want to know what the numbers on my calendar mean?”

Hinata blinked.  He’d forgotten all about that.  “If you’re comfortable sharing.”

“I count,”  he said. “I’ve been counting the days he’s been gone since he first died.”

The brunette was quiet for a moment.  It made sense now.

“Yeah.  So, we still have a long way to go.  Both of us.” He laughed yet again, in that way of his.  “But I think that...you’re good for me. And, as hard as it is for me to grasp, I think I might just be good for you, too.”

“Hey, Komaeda?”

“Yes?”

“Come over.”


End file.
